Feel the Tide
by Toolasoo
Summary: Emma didn't expect her life to turn out the way they did. She didn't expect the complete change that happened in her life. She didn't expect losing so many people she cared about and definitely not falling in love with her ex-boyfriend's horny best friend. But things tend to happen without planning. Paul/OC.
1. Chapter 1

_So. First fanfic I've ever written. Hope it turned out okay._

_This fanfic is gonna be Paul/OFC (in this case, a girl I've named Emma) centric, which obviously means it's AU, seeing as Paul's pairing is not Rachel. _

_Another thing you should know is that my first language is not English. If you see some grammar issues, well... it's hard to write in a language that is not really your own. So I guess that gives me some sort of a justification._

_Disclaimer: I definitely do not own Twilight._

* * *

**Chapter 1**

"You can't give him that!"

I frowned at Peyton in response. "Why not? It's cute."

"Right, Emma, 'cause that's what guys want; cute presents."

I bit my lower lip and looked down at the Christmas-themed sweater in my hands. "Alright, so no sweaters," I said, and put the sweater back in its place on the shelf.

"You can buy him a sweater, just please, avoid anything… Christmassy," Peyton advised, looking over at a stuffed teddy bear holding a big red heart.

I looked around me in desperation. "I suck at buying gifts," I announced.

"Oh, come on, it's not that hard," Peyton said absentmindedly, "Just buy him some porn. That'll definitely make him happy."

I smiled slightly at that. "I'll keep that in mind."

Peyton grabbed a bottle of perfume and sprayed it on herself, sniffing the air in concentration. "Why won't you just buy him another tool? He likes repairing things, he actually uses them."

I shook my head. "I already bought him a saw, a hammer and a wrench for his past birthdays."

Peyton snorted. "How romantic."

"It's our fourth year together as a couple. I need something a bit more personal than tools, you know?" I said, scanning the cheap merchandise on the shelves.

"Like I said – just buy the poor man some porn."

Peyton and I searched through 3 more shops before we called it a day and started heading back home. Peyton bought mostly cups with different Christmas-themed sentences on them to her friends and family, and I ended up with the same sweater I checked out in the first store we visited, and a few 'Microwave Cooking for One' kits.

Christmas, in my opinion, was the most stressful time of the year. As a teenage girl with almost no money, I found the whole 'buy presents to everyone you know' part of the holiday very annoying.

"At least you know that Jared is just as broke as you are," Peyton said simply from her place at the passenger seat in my awful, about-to-break-any-minute car.

She was right. Not only did Jared have absolutely no money, he was even worse than me in buying presents.

I never thought that knowing that my boyfriend couldn't pick a nice present to save his life would make me feel so good.

I tucked some of my hair, a shade or so darker than my skin, behind my right ear. "You're so lucky that you don't have to deal with it because you have no one," I said teasingly.

She laughed. "Yeah, I feel very fortunate about that."

"Is that why you broke up with Tony? So that you won't have to buy him anything?"

"No, I broke up with Tony because he preferred to check out Lucas Mitchell's ass and not mine," Peyton said matter-of-factly.

I smiled. "You really know how to pick them."

"Yeah…" She sighed. "It's a shame, really. Tony has such a nice body."

"So does Lucas Mitchell," I pointed out.

Peyton nodded her head solemnly. "Yes he does."

The drive from the mall to La Push was a bit over an hour, because La Push is practically in the middle of nowhere and so there's nothing in it except for two diners and a grocery store. As much as I loved driving, I tried to minimize the time I spent on the road, for the fear of spending all of my money on gas. Driving over an hour to the mall was a luxury I couldn't really afford, but I had no gift for Jared and I was absolutely desperate.

I got home after dropping Peyton at her house and checked out my phone. I had five missed calls, all of them from the same person. I quickly clicked on his phone number and waited for him to answer his phone.

It didn't take long for Jared to answer his phone. "Hey babe."

I smiled slightly. "Hi."

"I've tried calling you for the past hour," Jared stated simply.

I put the gifts I bought on my bed. "I've noticed. Desperate much?"

I heard him chuckle. "Just a tad. But please, tell me, what could you have possibly done that was more important than talking to me?"

"Oh, you know, the usual. Having sex with random guys in vacant lots, stripping in front of old people…"

"You give so much to the community. I applaud you."

I laughed, then decided to actually answer his initial question. "I was driving, so I couldn't talk to you."

Jared made an exaggerated gasping sound. "Driving for more than half an hour? What for?"

No reason to keep the 'gift buying thing' a secret. "I was on a quest to buy you the perfect gift."

"Oh reeeaaaaally?" Jared said, stretching out the word, then said in a more nervous tone, "It's not another tool, is it?"

"I knew it. You didn't like the tools that I bought you," I said accusingly.

"Can you blame me?"

I scowled. "Well, I'd prefer to get a hammer than that cheap deodorant that you bought me."

"What? I thought you needed that!" Jared said in a surprised tone.

I stayed silent for a few long seconds. "Did you just imply that I smell bad?"

Now it was Jared's turn to be silent. "…no…"

"You think that I smell bad!" I said loudly, faking irritation and shock.

Jared was panicked now. "I don't! I just – you said that you needed a new deodorant, so –"

"Say that I smell like roses," I said suddenly.

"…What?" Jared asked, confused.

I rolled my eyes. "I'm guiding you on what to say to your disgruntled girlfriend after implying to her that she smells bad. Now tell me that I smell like roses!"

"Alright, alright. You… smell like roses."

I let him wait a while for my response. "I don't think you really meant that."

"Oh, jeez…"

**~oOo~**

Walking out of my house the next morning, I shivered and held my coat closer to my body, trying to get warmer. It wasn't extremely cold, but it was still a lot for me to handle. I was skin and bones with not a lot of fat on me, and I had less protection than most people.

I walked quickly to my school, wanting to be inside of a warm building and not outside. It was a ten minutes' walk, the school was not very far from my house, and so I mostly just walked and didn't take the car for it.

Though the car sounded very tempting right about now…

"Wait up, Stevens!"

I turned around, realizing who he was before I even saw him from his low voice.

"Lahote," I said as a greeting when Paul got to where I was. Paul lived near my house, and most days it just so happened that we made our way together to school.

Paul looked at the sky. "Nice day," He said simply.

I looked at him, incredulous. "Are you kidding? It's _freezing_."

"You're cold?" He said with a raised eyebrow.

"Aren't you?" I asked, then I shook my head at him. "Sorry. Forgot you were like a small orangutan."

"I see that you're full of compliments today," Paul said with a small smile, then took off his big jacket and handed it to me. "Here."

I looked at the jacket uncertainly. "Won't you be cold?"

"I'm like a small orangutan, remember?"

I smiled and gratefully took the jacket from him, feeling a wave of warmth washing me when I put it on me.

We walked silently for a few moments, and then Paul broke the silence. "Did you do the History assignment?"

I turned my head to look at him, knowing what was coming. "Yes."

"Can I –"

"No."

Paul frowned at me. "Why so negative already? You don't even know what I was going to ask."

"You were going to ask if you could copy it," I said.

"Ah. So you did know what I was going to ask."

I shook my head at him. "Why didn't you do it yourself?"

"Because I was bored," Paul said lamely.

I wasn't impressed by that. "Not an excuse."

Paul tried another answer. "Because I'm a busy man."

I laughed at that. "You don't even have a job or anything like that. Unless you're charging all the girls that you sleep with money for your services." I turned to give him a suspicious look. "You don't, do you?"

"Do I _look _like a man whore?"

"From this angle, a little bit, yes."

Paul gave me a scathing look. "Sarcastic midget."

"Steroids-taker," I retorted.

"Minesweeper-player!"

"Boobs-lover!"

Paul raised an eyebrow at that. "I thought we were trying to insult each other."

"'Cuz the 'Minesweeper-player' was an insult?" I asked.

"C'mon. Who would even want to play a game about finding mines?"

I looked back at the road ahead of me. I could see the school already. "It's a good game. It's a logical game."

Paul smirked. "And that's supposed to convince me that it's a good game?"

I rolled my eyes. "You're just like Jon Snow, Lahote. You know nothing."

Paul looked at me blankly. "Please tell me you didn't just say that."

"But I did."

Paul groaned loudly at that. "God, you're such a nerd."

We made our way through the tiny parking lot and into the school building, which was already filled with students rushing to get to their first classes. I sadly took Paul's jacket off me and handed it to him. "Thanks for the jacket."

He took the jacket and put it back on him. "No problem. Does this act of chivalry will help you reconsider –"

"I'm not giving you my History assignment, Paul," I said simply.

"Fuck," He said in annoyance and looked around him. "Now I need to find someone with a heart kind enough to help a man in trouble."

"Have fun," I said dryly as he walked down the hall, searching for a victim that will give him their assignment. I rolled my eyes at his back with a smile and entered the class to my right, where I had my first class of the day – Math.

Two hours and one big headache later, I walked to my next class, History, where I found Paul and Jared already sitting with a group of their friends.

"Hey babe," Jared said when I got to where he was sitting on the table. He wrapped one arm around me and kissed lightly the top of my head as a greeting.

"Hey," I replied with a smile, leaning into his embrace. "Found someone to give you their work, Lahote?"

"Yep, my new-best-bud over there," Paul smirked proudly and pointed at Arnie Miller, a quiet smart boy that was sitting in his usual place next to the wall. He looked back at Paul with scared, uncertain wide eyes, then decided that it was best for him to just turn away and forget that Paul Lahote even existed.

"See? Best buds," Paul said simply.

"Yeah, I've noticed the warmth and love passing between you two," Jared commented.

"As long as he keeps letting me copy his answers, I'm happy," Paul said with a shrug of his shoulders.

"You're the worst, Paul," Dianna, a pretty girl from our class who was standing next to us, said.

"But you still like it," He said with a wink in her direction. She blushed a little, and the look in her eyes practically yelled _'now, after class the two of us are going to find an empty classroom and we're gonna have sex… without telling anyone afterwards, of course. I don't want to appear slutty or anything.'_

Paul had this appeal on girls. There was almost no girl in school who could resist him. It was probably his big muscles and confidence that lured them in. But Paul was not a serious guy and only liked the chase, never liked the actual relationship part. So he could be completely into a girl for one moment, then they have sex and then it was his time to move on to his next prey.

Disgusting in my eyes, but that was just Paul. No way for him to change his ways now.

I felt a movement next to me, and saw that Jared was lightly massaging his upper arm with a discomfort look.

"You pulled a muscle?" I asked when he saw me looking.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe in my sleep. I don't know. I woke up today with a sore body."

"Maybe it's a way for your body to tell you to ease up on yourself in the gym?" I asked helpfully, helping Jared massaging an aching spot on his arm.

"Maybe it's your body's way of telling you that you're a complete sissy," Paul said loudly, evoking laughs and 'oohs' from the rest of the group.

Even with his sore muscles, Jared still beat Paul's ass and got them both in detention.

* * *

_So that's the first chapter._

_If you like it, please review. Takes less than a minute of your time, and I'll really appreciate it._


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I definitely do not own Twilight._

* * *

**Chapter 2**

For the next week, Jared had complained about soreness in his body. He stopped with his working outs because of it, but he still said that the pain feels 'motherfucking bad as fuck.'

"I don't know what's wrong with him," I said one day to Peyton while we were at lunch break.

"Who cares?" Was Peyton's response. Upon seeing my frown she added, "It's probably nothing. He'll get over it soon enough."

I had a bad feeling, but all I said was, "Yeah. Maybe."

"Or maybe he's gonna die," Peyton said seriously.

I threw my apple at her.

"Hey, don't waste food!" Xander Daniels, a good friend of Jared, said as he approached where Peyton and I were sitting with Jared, Paul and Lucas Mitchell. He grabbed the apple from the floor and took a bite.

"Ew, Daniels, that's disgusting," Peyton said, making a face.

"It was barely on the floor for even ten seconds," Xander said as he took another bite from the apple.

"Yes, but in the ten seconds that it was on the floor, it already managed to roll onto old pizza sauce, mud and a lot of dust."

Xander just shrugged his shoulders. "I'm a growing boy who needs all the food he can get."

While Peyton and Xander were arguing on whether the apple was still edible after the horrors it's been through ("The Pizza sauce was smeared there for more than a week!"), I hugged Jared lightly. "Still sore?"

"It's actually getting worse," He said. "It's annoying the crap out of me."

I rubbed his back comfortingly. "Anything I could do to make it better?"

"Well, there is this one thing…"

"I'm not giving you a blow job."

"Then why did you even suggest your help?"

I continued rubbing his back, and he leaned into me.

"Paul, don't you think it's disgusting to eat a tainted apple?" Peyton suddenly asked loudly, annoyed with Xander's lack of caring over the quality of his food.

Paul, who was up until then just sitting next to Jared with two legs on the table and looking at the four girls who were sitting at the table next to us, turned to look at Peyton and Xander. He smirked. "She's right, man. No girl is ever going to kiss you now. You're tainted for life."

Xander rolled his eyes and kept eating the apple.

Peyton looked pleased with Paul. "At least _one_ guy here knows that you need to keep some sort of good hygiene," She said with a smile.

"Gotta keep clean for the ladies," Paul said with a wink in her direction. Peyton's smile grew wider.

I could feel from the way Peyton acted around Paul that she was interested; it showed in the way she twirled her hair around her finger and the way she smiled a whole lot more when he was around. I knew that Paul enjoyed the amount of attention he was getting from Peyton – after all, she was one of the prettiest girls in school – but so far he didn't try to sleep with her.

That's not to say he won't try to in the future.

I already told Peyton my opinion on the matter and that Paul wasn't good for her. It's not that I disliked Paul – he was a good friend of mine, and I believed that he's a good person, deep, deep inside – but he lacked a few serious traits that every decent boyfriend had to have. Such as, the ability to stay faithful to a girl, or be sensitive.

But Peyton, apparently, didn't care much about any of that, and only said, "Whatever. He's hot."

I really hoped that she won't try anything with him. She'd be the one getting hurt in the end.

**~oOo~**

My mom greeted me when I got home that day with a smile and a bowl filled with mash potatoes.

"How was school?" She asked while stirring the mash potatoes.

"Decent," I replied as I put my school bag on the floor next to the staircase.

"Can you take your bag up to your room, Emma?" Mom said, eyeing the school bag on the floor while knitting her brows. "I don't like it when you put it right there on the floor."

I really didn't understand what's so bad about the bag being next to the stairs, but it had always bothered my mom immensely, so instead of picking up a fight with her like I sometimes do, I just said, "Fine." I grabbed the bag and walked up the stairs to my room.

My room was very small and very colorful. That's the problem with bedrooms that you live in since you were a little kid; as a kid, I loved very bright, colorful colors. The result of that was that my room looked like the gay pride flag.

It's kinda hard to look at the walls without feelings a bit unbalanced by all the colors.

I returned back to the first floor after the hard task of relocating my bag, and saw that my mom was already organizing the table.

I decided to be a good daughter and helped her with putting the dishes on the table.

She looked at me with surprise and appreciation written all over her face. "Emma Stevens, _willingly_ helping her poor mother to set the table?"

I nodded my head seriously while putting a fork and a knife next to each plate on the table. "After long years of painfully looking at you putting dishes on the table in such disarray, I've finally decided to put you out of your misery and show you how it's supposed to be done."

Mom just shook her head at me. "Well, thank God then."

From a young age I realized something very important that followed me for years to come – when you don't do anything around the house and just act like a lazy asshole, then when you actually contribute and help – that's when your help is greatly appreciated.

That's why I preferred not to help out around the house. Because when I_ did_ help, I felt like an angel.

Mom and I sat down next to the square table to eat. Dad almost never joined us for lunch. He was always at work till late, and so it was mostly just Mom and I. Mom didn't like the fact that we didn't have a lot of family meals, but there was nothing she could really do about it.

Still, she liked to complain.

"I know that he needs to work," She always said when it was just her and I together, "I _get_ that. But work is not the only thing that matters. _Family_ matters."

My Dad was working in a big company, and was getting paid rather well. He was a man of few words with a quiet demeanor, which was exactly why his coworkers respected him so much. I always saw my Dad as this serious, quiet man, but Mom kept assuring me that this wasn't always the case.

"He was so passionate when we first started dating," She loved to tell me over and over again. "So different than he is now. I bet he's still passionate inside, though. One day, he's going to explode. He can't be this serious forever. He's going to break, be who he really is. You'll see."

I knew that my Mom preferred the way my Dad was before he started working in this company. She always said it changed him. Still, she never actually said any of that to his face. She preferred to say those things to me, behind his back.

Guess there's no need to wonder from who I inherited my love for gossiping.

**~oOo~**

I found Jared sitting alone on a rock at the school's parking lot at the end of the school's day. His elbows were on his knees and his face was buried in his hands. I approached him slowly, not knowing if he would appreciate me coming over when he obviously felt so bad.

He didn't notice my presence when I stood right in front of him. I cleared my throat quietly before saying, "Hey," to make sure that I won't startle him.

He raised his head to look at me, and I saw that he really looked absolutely terrible. He was sweating and his eyes were red, like he barely slept.

"Hi," He said, his voice slightly hoarse.

I sat down on the rock next to him. "Feeling any better?"

Jared shook his head. "No."

I bit my lip. "Maybe you should go to a doctor or something. See if it's something serious."

Jared took a deep breath and rubbed his tired eyes. "I don't know… I probably should just let it pass by itself. It's just that, most times, when I have a headache, it passes quickly, and it's kinda… I don't know… less _intense_. Just feels like I've got a jackhammer in my head."

I raised my eyebrow at him. "And you don't think _that's_ reason enough to go to the doctor?"

Jared shrugged his shoulders. "Time heals all, isn't that the saying?"

I smiled faintly at him.

Jared rubbed his eyes again, then wiped his sweaty brow. "I'm also very hot."

"And humble," I added.

Jared actually chuckled at that. "No, I mean, I'm _hot_. Like my skin is on fire."

I tentatively reached out to touch his arm. Saying he was hot was an understatement. "Yeah. I can feel that. You're burning."

He let his head drop into his hands again. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

I let my hand rub his back. "You were probably right before. It's probably going to pass on its own. Maybe it's just a serious fever."

"Maybe," Was all he said as a reply.

I kept rubbing his back, not knowing what else to do or say. I just hoped that this comforted him slightly.

I was so focused on Jared, that I didn't notice the guy who was approaching us until he was right in front of us. Of course, when he was standing a meter from us, I couldn't help but notice him – he was too huge to not be noticeable.

Sam Uley looked at Jared intently. "Hey Jared." He then looked at me briefly. "Emma."

I met Sam through Jared. Even though there were four years separating between Jared and Sam, they were always casual friends. I was never with Sam alone, because frankly, he kinda intimidated me. He was a big man – muscles even bigger than Paul's, which I knew aggravated Paul greatly. And Sam was always just kind of a quiet mystery to me, never sharing much about himself, which made me feel unsure on how to talk to him. I was sarcastic most of the time, and he didn't seem like the guy to appreciate sarcasm. I always felt like my behavior was beneath him.

Jared raised his head again to look at Sam. "What's up man."

Sam's look was intense. "I was thinking, we haven't talked to each other for a long time now. How 'bout a walk or something?"

Jared ran a hand through his short hair. "I don't know. I feel pretty sick."

"I don't ask you to do something physical that will exhaust you," Sam said reasonably. "All I want is to talk to you."

Jared seemed to think about it for a moment, then said, "…alright. Let's talk."

Sam shot a blank look at me. "I actually prefer to speak in private."

Ouch.

Jared just looked confused for a moment. He turned to look at me with question in his eyes, as if asking me if it was okay for him to leave me here to talk to his buddy. I managed a small smile, to show him that I didn't care, but fuck, Sam could've at least _tried_ not to make it so obvious that my presence was not welcomed.

Jared turned to Sam again. "Fine."

He got to his feet slowly, and I knew that this sickness made him feel exhausted. Before he left with Sam, he caressed my cheek lightly with his knuckles, because a goodbye kiss was obviously out of the question. Jared didn't want to pass his disease to me.

I looked at their backs as they walked away from me, and couldn't help but feel a bit bothered by that. I didn't like the look Sam gave Jared; he looked... intense. Excited. _Eager_.

I just stared at his back until he disappeared from sight and muttered, "_Creep_."

* * *

_Thanks for reading :)_


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: I definitely do not own Twilight._

* * *

**Chapter 3**

Jared didn't show up even once for the next week.

I tried calling him every day; I was concerned. He answered me at first, sounding tired and distant. As the time went by, he just stopped answering and let it go to voicemail.

It stung, to know that he didn't want to talk to me. But he was sick, after all, and if he wanted the peace and quiet, then I wouldn't be the one to prevent him from those. So I kept my distance and stopped calling him.

Only a few days after Jared stopped showing up to school, Paul started having the same symptoms Jared had.

"He wasn't lying when he said it hurt like hell," Paul said one morning when we were walking to school. He looked like crap; his hair was sticking to his brow from the sweat, his eyes were red, and he breathed heavily. Just like Jared looked when he started with that sudden sickness. But the difference between them was that Jared simply looked exhausted; Paul looked pissed off.

"You realize that I haven't been sick _at all_ for the last _six years_? Not even _once_, and now Jared infected me with whatever he had!"

"How inconsiderate of him," I replied as we continued walking.

"Fuck that. I _hate_ being sick," He said bitterly, wiping his forehead. "And with the upcoming football match, it's a really bad time for me to get sick."

"It's not like your team had any chance of winning anyway," I said.

He glared at me. "Why would you say that?"

"Well… you suck."

"What do you mean, I _suck_? I don't _suck_!" He was really pissed off now. The disease just made him even more angry than he normally was.

"Well, not _you_," I corrected quickly, "But your team is pretty lame."

He gritted his teeth. "We are _not_ lame. We just had a few rough matches, that's all."

"Alright, alright," I said with a raise of my hands, "You're right. You're a wonderful team."

He huffed angrily and wiped his forehead again.

"Why is it so damn _hot_ outside?" He said loudly in a frustrated tone.

I looked at him. "It's not. It's freezing."

He pointed at the bids of sweat on his face. "Doesn't feel freezing to me."

I made a face. "Okay, first of all – ew. Second of all, it's just that fever. Jared said it felt like he was burning, too. It's gonna pass."

We continued walking in silent for a few minutes, and then I heard Paul growling next to me.

I turned to look at him, confused. "What?"

Paul's eyes were fixed on something, and I turned to look at the direction he was staring at.

There, partially hidden behind a bush, was standing Sam Uley. He just looked back at Paul, not breaking an eye contact, but also not letting any emotion show on his face.

"Why is he looking at you like that?" I asked Paul, who looked away from Sam now.

"How the fuck would I know?" He said angrily. "I keep seeing him around, and all he does is _look_. It's fucking _weird_."

"Maybe he wants to get into your pants," I suggested with a smile.

Paul growled again. "Goddammit, Stevens, don't even joke about that."

"Who said I was joking? I think it would be great for you."

"Stevens, shut up…"

"What's wrong? Does that thought makes you… aroused?" I said teasingly, my smile only widening at his obvious discomfort. "Ah, my new OTP. How _exciting_."

His look was murderous.

"Now, what's your ship name shall be… it's hard to combine both your names. Maybe… Ulahote?"

"Stevens…!"

"Yeah, yeah. You're right, it's not good. Ahm… Maybe Pauley? It's a combination of Paul and Uley, get it?"

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. I raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to ignore you."

"Oh, come on. You got to admit, Pauley is an awesome ship name. And it even makes you blush."

Paul self-consciously rubbed his red cheeks. "I'm not _blushing_. It's the sickness."

"The sickness of llooooooovvvvvvvveeeeeee."

Paul just shook his head at me. "Fuck you, Stevens."

I just smiled back at him. "Why me when you have Sam Uley?"

He quickened his pace then and avoided me for the rest of the day.

**~oOo~**

Paul didn't show up to school the next day, which was not that surprising. A lot of girls looked disappointed that he was absent though, which was pretty entertaining. I had to stop myself from telling a few of the disappointed girls that Paul was probably spending some quality time with his "new boyfriend" – I knew that Paul wouldn't appreciate that joke.

Peyton was, surprisingly, one of the upset girls. "I wanted to ask him out today," She admitted when we were sitting together on a bench outside on our lunch break. "Maybe go drink some coffee. And he decided not to show up!"

"That bastard," I said dryly. Peyton nodded her head, seemingly lost in thought, and I just looked at her. When she finally noticed that I was looking at her for a while, she frowned. "What?"

"Why do you want to date Paul?" I asked her, really trying to understand.

"Why wouldn't I want to date him?" Peyton said, still frowning.

"Because he's untrustworthy, he's easy to anger, he acts like a little child at times, and, let's face it, he's kind of a slut."

Peyton closed her eyes with a sigh. "But have you _seen_ his body?"

"Peyton," I said with a raised eyebrow.

"Look," Peyton said harshly, "I know that I have a terrible taste in guys, with my first boyfriend's love for rubber ducks and my last boyfriend's love for dicks. Not the greatest picks, I know. Which is what led me to decide that I don't want a serious relationship. They suck anyway. So what's wrong with wanting a hot guy to help you have a good time? What's wrong with that?"

"He might have STD."

"Oh, come on Emma, he doesn't have STD!"

"Alright, alright," I said with a shook of my head. "I'm just saying… be careful, okay?"

"When am I not careful?" Peyton asked with a dismissive shake of her hand.

"Well, there was that time when you almost got pregnant –"

"Okay, first of all, how is it my fault that the condom tore? And second of all, it was a rhetorical question!"

We both stayed quiet for a little while.

"Do you really think he has STD?" Peyton asked finally in a worried tone.

"I would suggest you making sure that he'll go through some medical tests before any intercourse you may have in the future," I said gravely.

**~oOo~**

The smell of burnt food hit me when I opened the door to my home.

I coughed at the smell and walked quickly to the kitchen, where I saw that the fish in the stove was as black as coal. I quickly turned the stove off and opened its door, only to be greeted by a cloud of smoke. I coughed again, chocking slightly on the smoke, and turned to open all of the windows in the kitchen to help the smell fade away.

I looked at the living room, confused. I didn't see Mom, even though the fish indicated she was supposed to be at home. It was weird that she just forgot the fish like that and didn't smell it.

"Mom?" I asked, walking out of the kitchen and up the stairs since she wasn't in the ground floor. I looked around me and saw that the door to her and Dad's room was opened, and that the light in the room was turned on.

"Mom?" I said again, walking into her room.

At first, I thought no one was in that room.

And then I noticed her feet.

"Mom!" I cried, panicked, as I ran to where she was laying. Her eyes were opened and unfocused and blank. Her mouth was slightly open. Her whole body was completely still.

She was not breathing.

At first, all I could do was look at her. My brain never worked as slowly as it did then. My eyes were wide, my hands shaking, but I didn't touch her. I could only look.

The shock paralyzed me.

I felt like the world was closing in on me. I felt small. It was hard for me to breath.

I finally reached out then, my fingertips tentatively touching her arm.

The coldness of her flesh brought me out of my paralyzed state.

"Mom!" I screamed, shaking her shoulders even though the rational part of my brain said that there's nothing I can do now. She was already gone.

I got to my feet, feeling completely unbalanced and distraught. I got the phone that was on the wall and dialed the hospital number with shaking hands.

"Yes, how can I help you?" A man's voice said from the other side of the line.

"My Mom is not breathing," I said quickly, my voice hoarse and panicked.

"What happened to her?" The man said with a harsh tone.

"I- I don't know," I said, my mind all over the place. "She was like that when I came home…"

"Give me your location."

I told him my home address, and he assured me that the ambulance was on his way.

"Do you know CPR?" He asked me.

I ran a hand through my hair, my breathings shallow. "No. No, I've never learned…"

"Alright," He said. "Just do as I tell you, okay?"

I nodded my head and swallowed the lump in my throat. "Okay."

"Right. Place her on her back."

"She's already on her back," I said as I sat down again next to her.

"Put the heel of your hand on her breastbone," He instructed me. "It's right between the breasts."

I positioned my hand there, trying to force it not to shake.

"Now place your other hand on top of your first hand," He said, "And then position your body directly over your hands. Your arms are supposed to be somewhat straight. Do you follow?"

I put the phone on speaker and did as he said. "Yes."

"Now press down with both your hands over the breastbone to perform a compression. The rhythm of the compressions should be relatively fast."

"How many times do I need to do it?" I asked while performing the chest compressions. I couldn't wipe my tears because both of my hands were occupied, and my tears were falling on my Mom's red shirt.

"Thirty."

I could hear the siren of the ambulance from outside.

"I hear the ambulance," I told the man who guided me.

"Good, good," He said. "Keep doing what you do until they take over."

I continued doing the compressions. I heard the front door opens.

"We're on the second floor!" I shouted to the paramedics downstairs. In a moment, they were in the room and pushing me aside to get an access to my Mom.

I saw them checking my Mom for pulse. I saw them doing the same thing I just did to my mom. I saw them shaking their heads.

And then I didn't see anything anymore, because I understood that there really was no hope anymore. I felt like my brain was shutting down, and basic acts like breathing and speaking and _seeing_ were taking all of my energy.

I was just as gone as my Mom was.

* * *

_Storyline finally begins._

_So... thanks for reading, and please leave a review. I'd love to know what you think so far :)_


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: I definitely do not own Twilight._

* * *

**Chapter 4**

"I'm sorry for your loss."

I'd probably heard that sentence a million times already. People tend to say what they think would sound right in uncomfortable times. I was already sick and tired of this sentence, but I didn't let it show on my face, and all I said as a response was, "Thank you." I didn't blame the people for not having anything better to say than that, because really, what can you possibly say to a grieving person other than that?

I was standing at the funeral next to my mother's fresh grave, staring at it with glassy eyes without actually the ability to focus on it. They still didn't burry my mom in the ground, but it was about to happen soon. There were barely clouds in the light sky above me, even though for the last few days the area was dark and rainy. The grass was greener than ever, the flowers colorful and blooming, and the cold breeze was soft against my skin.

All in all, it was a beautiful day.

I could feel my father shifting slightly next to me. We haven't spoken since I found Mom. Maybe he didn't know what to tell me. I sure as hell had no idea what to say to him. 'I'm sorry for your loss' was not an option in this case.

When he saw my mom's corpse at the hospital, he dropped down next to her, crying. The mere idea of seeing my father losing control like that was kind of baffling. It made the room feel suffocating, and made me want to escape.

So I went to the Cafeteria, to give my Dad the time to say goodbye to Mom. I already said my goodbye.

I felt a warm hand on my shoulder, and knew without even looking that it was Peyton. Like my father, she barely spoke to me for the past two days. But unlike my father, she didn't leave my side. I guess the sentence 'Shared Sorrow is half a Sorrow' was true.

When it was time to lower my mom to her death bed, I felt like something was grabbing my heart and twisting it. Knowing that my mom was over the ground with me, although in a coffin, was one thing. Knowing that my mom was under the ground made the distance between us feel bigger than it actually was. But even though the pain inside of me was so strong, I couldn't cry. Not anymore. I shed so many tears in the last two days that it seemed as if my body was not able to produce any more tears.

I was emotionally drained.

The grief exhausted me.

**~oOo~**

Jared didn't want to see me or talk to me.

I got that he was sick. I _got_ that. But he didn't even have the decency to pick up the phone and answer my calls. He had probably heard about my Mom's heart attack – there was no way this thing could've been kept a secret in a small place like this. But a small part of me hoped that he actually knew nothing about it. Because if he knew, and _still_ didn't want to talk to me and comfort me, then that just made me feel even more alone than I'd already felt.

My Dad was barely at home these days. Not that he spent a lot of time at home before, but now, it was like he didn't even live here anymore. He got home after midnight every night, with the smell of alcohol on his clothes.

The loneliness and quiet were suffocating me. It made me feel like my head was going to explode, like my blood was running faster than it normally did. I was always a very calm person – the quiet rarely made me feel uncomfortable.

I'd never felt more uncomfortable being quiet than I did now. I'd never had the urge to _scream_, to cry, just to fill in the silence.

People didn't know how to comfort me in school. They tried being nice, tried to get me to talk about my Mom, but I couldn't talk about her. I didn't want to. Maybe it was a horrible thing, but I didn't want to think about her. It pained me too much.

Peyton was the only one who knew how to act around me. She didn't talk about personal things, didn't talk about my Mom. She talked like nothing happened, and to be honest, I was grateful for it. I hated the looks of pity that were thrown at me from every direction.

" – so, last night I dreamt that I was playing Candy Crush on my phone, and then my sister looked at it and asked me, 'Can there be a row of six identical candies?' and I was like, '_No_, Courtney, it's _not_ possible, because there'll have to be three identical candies right next to each other, you know? And then they'll pop before you have the chance to make a row of six'."

"Lovely."

"Yeah, it was a pretty dumb dream," Peyton admitted with a shrug.

We were sitting in History Class, and we had five more minutes before the bell will ring. There were only a few other kids in the class, talking and laughing in groups.

No Jared in sight.

Peyton, apparently, had similar thoughts. "Jared's still not here."

"Nice observation."

Peyton ignored my comment. "Did he talk to you?"

I made a face. "Nope."

Peyton surveyed the look on my face. "You're probably angry at him."

I ran a hand through my hair. To some extent, I was furious with him, with his lack of caring. But I also was too tired to actually feel mad.

"I think you should dump him," Peyton announced suddenly.

I rolled my eyes. "Peyton…"

"What? Don't tell me you're not tempted to. Hell, if he was my boyfriend, he would've been long gone." Peyton made herself feel comfortable on her chair by putting her legs on the table in front of her. "Find a boyfriend who _does_ return your calls. Especially when his girlfriend is upset."

I looked at my table with a blank expression. "He's just really sick."

"So what?" Peyton asked flatly. "If he cared, then he would've called. I call you all the time when I'm sick."

"Because most of the time you're not_ really_ sick, you're fake-sick."

She shrugged her shoulders. "Same thing." Peyton shifted a bit in her place. "But, now that I think about it, I tried calling Paul a few times in this last week, and he didn't pick up the phone either."

"Maybe they're dead," I said dryly.

"We really need to work on your sense of humor, Emma. But, you know, maybe they're extremely hoarse or something. Phlegm all over. Maybe they're doing us a favor by not calling us back."

I looked at Peyton. "We're pathetic."

"We really are," She agreed.

I smiled a little at the seriousness in her tone, and realized it was one of the few times I smiled in the last week.

**~oOo~**

In the last few days I noticed a few things my father did that he'd never done before. Like, the way he looked at me, with those sick, unfocused eyes – how he watched my body as I moved, with this unsettling sparkle in his eyes. How he tried to get close to me, his arm brushing against mine when we sat down in front of the television, his leg touching mine when we silently ate dinner together. He didn't realize how much his subtle actions scared me, or maybe he didn't care.

I tried to avoid him as much as possible.

But living in the same house with him made that quite impossible, and as much as it scared me, I didn't think he'll actually try to do anything to me.

But I was wrong.

My father returned home drunk. Not a very unfamiliar sight, but so far he had managed to control himself. But to a man's grieving mind, a few bottles of beverage could be a very dangerous thing.

It seemed like he drank more than usual. He swayed on his feet, he blinked a lot, and the corners of his lips were curled upward, forming a small, drunken smile.

"Eeeemmmmmmmmmmmaaaaaaaa," I heard him say loudly as he walked inside, his eyes looking at me, unfocused.

I stayed in my place on the sofa, just staring at him, not knowing what to do.

He sat down next to me on the sofa, very close to me, his hand on my thigh, his head close to mine.

An uncomfortable feeling washed over me and I turned away from him, trying to stand up.

"No," He slurred desperately, his left hand turning my face back toward him, his right hand caressing my thigh. "No," he repeated quietly, his hand still on my face.

My throat was completely dry and I started to shake slightly from fear. I wasn't sure what was going on entirely, wasn't sure what the alcohol did to my father's mind, or more accurately, what desire in my father the alcohol unleashed, but it scared me.

He looked at my face closely and blinked a lot, as if he was trying to concentrate. "You look so much like her," He whispered, tucking a stray of my hair behind my ear.

I swallowed. "But I'm not her," I whispered back, my voice chocked from the fear.

He apparently spotted the fear in my voice and looked at me in confusion. "Don't be scared of me, Emma… I won't hurt you. I'm just… I don't… I'm so _alone_." My father shook his head pathetically, and his head got a bit closer to mine. "Please… just join me in my bed… we can keep each other warm…"

That was it for me – I jumped to my feet and escaped the room, unable to breathe properly. I ran straight to my room and closed the door behind me, quickly locking it. I could hear his heavy steps, could hear him making his way to my room, and I was starting to feel nauseated and sick. I practically ran to my bed and covered myself with my blanket, as if I was trying to create a shield that will protect me, even though I knew that the locked door will protect me better than that thin blanket. Still, its feeling around me comforted me.

My father finally got to my room and started knocking forcefully on it while shouting a few things about me being selfish.

I fell asleep that night, shaking and crying, with the sound of my father's knocks and drunken shouts and the lingering feeling of his hands on my body.

* * *

_So... there's that._

_Oh, the Candy Crush dream? That's an actual dream I had. I guess all of my dreams are pretty stupid. One time, I dreamt I went to a shop dedicated to nail polishes, and there was this huge sell, and I just spent the whole dream choosing different colors of nail polishes._

_Gotta love stupid dreams._

_If you like it, then please review - only takes a few seconds of your time._


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: I definitely do not own Twilight._

* * *

**Chapter 5**

**Paul's POV:**

The ability to turn into a wolf whenever I felt like it was never one I even dreamt of possessing.

And yet, I ended up possessing that said ability.

Guess life is full of surprises.

I couldn't help but feel happy about this turn of events; I was strong. Powerful. Bigger than I was before I changed. And, fuck, I was intimidating more than before. But this new power given me was hard to control. At least, it was hard for me. Jared, the little fucker, had no problem controlling himself, and even when he was angry he managed to stay in his human form.

I couldn't.

Whenever I felt even slightly angry, I couldn't even think clearly. I couldn't control myself or my urges. I turned into a wolf so many times in the first few days of my change, that I actually spent more time as a wolf and less time as a human.

Sam was really impatient with me. I could see that. It angered me further, because it's not like I was turning into a wolf on _purpose_. But Jared was with me, never left my side, and helped me until I could finally control myself, even while angry.

It took a few long weeks, but in the end I was declared ready to associate with other people again. Sam was slightly worried that I'd completely lose myself around other people, but Jared assured Sam that he'd look after me. Like I needed a babysitter.

It felt good to be back at school. It seemed like everyone's eyes were glued on Jared and I. Everywhere we went, people stared. I couldn't really blame them – we were only absent for, what, a month? And we came back almost twice the size we were before.

Jared didn't like the attention; I _needed _the attention.

Especially when the girls around me were staring at my grown muscles with big eyes.

I smiled at the girls, who blushed in response.

It was good to be back.

**~oOo~**

**Emma's POV:**

I was scared of my own father.

I was scared that he would try to do something to me. That I wouldn't be able to run away from him, like I did the last time. That he wouldn't _let_ me run away.

My Dad wasn't thinking clearly anymore; his mind was not the same as it was before.

He didn't see me as his daughter anymore. He was seeing me as a shadow of his dead wife.

That thought alone made me want to throw up.

I sometimes noticed Peyton looking at me weirdly, as if she was concerned but didn't actually know why. She knew me well; we were best friends for a long time. She obviously noticed a change in me. But I didn't want to tell her about it, and she didn't ask me about it. I was thankful for that. That was one conversation I never wanted to have.

I was walking down the packed hall in my school, just wanting to get to my locker. I heard some, "Hi Emma!", "How's it going, Emm?" and other greetings, and I just smiled back at them, too tired to actually talk back. I didn't sleep very well at night; my nights, which were usually just shallow dreams before, were now filled with nightmares.

I saw a big crowd in front of me, and without even trying I could see what everyone was looking at.

Jared.

I stopped in my place, just staring at him. Jared was an athletic guy before, but he was never _that_ athletic. He never had so many muscles on him. And he was never that tall, or that bulky.

How could he have changed so drastically in such a short time?

I saw him looking at the people around him with an embarrassed look. I saw him shrugging his shoulders when people asked him what happened to him, as if it was completely natural to have such a growth spurt so suddenly.

I stared at him when his eyes landed on me. When his eyes looked right back into my eyes intently. I saw the disappointment in his eyes.

His disappointment when looking at me was like a slap to the face.

I turned around and walked away from him. I felt rejected, like a stab to the heart. I could feel the tears of rejection forming in the corners of my eyes, and I tried my best not to shed them, but it was bordering on impossible.

Seeing the look in Jared's eyes was a proof to what I guessed already – he didn't want me anymore.

And I didn't even know _why_.

I couldn't help myself anymore; I wanted to break down, let a few tears fall from my eyes without being surrounded with so many people, and collect myself in private.

And with that, I opened the door of my new sanctuary – the girls' bathroom.

**~oOo~**

**Paul's POV:**

I had always preferred to spend time in the girls' toilets over the guys'. It wasn't something that I felt embarrassed to confess. The girls' toilets smelt a whole lot better than the guys', and it was cleaner, and it was a private enough place to fuck girls in.

And now, after my first time shifting into a wolf happened, my senses where heightened and fucking a random girl in the toilets brought me even more pleasure than it once did.

The girl I was currently fucking was a pretty one. She had a nice face and curly black hair. She wore a lot of eye makeup and was very enthusiastic to have me inside of her.

"Oh,_ fuck,_ Paul!" She gasped as I pounded into her. I knew that maybe I was being a little too rough with her; I was stronger and faster than I was before, and fuck, so much _bigger_ than before, and I couldn't quite control myself yet, but it felt so _good_ to be so powerful.

And anyway, it wasn't like she was against the forcefulness in which I grabbed her and pounded into her. It seemed as if she liked it more than gentle caresses and slow movement, which was fine by me.

I was done in no time, the pleasure washing me from the inside, and she finished right after me, looking spent and happy and a little bit amazed.

"Wow," The girl breathed, her legs still around my waist, her panties and skirt discarded on the floor next to her. "That was… wow."

I smirked and let her slide her legs off of me. "Always happy to please," I said simply.

She looked at me and smiled, her cheeks still flushed from the adrenaline. "Bethany said that you were well packed, but I never thought it was so…"

"Tremendously huge?" I said helpfully.

She laughed. "Sure." She had to stand on the tip of her toes to be able to press her lips against mine, and I let her even though normally I didn't like the tender moments that followed sex. I allowed her mostly because she was a great fuck and she let me be as rough as I wanted to be with her.

The sound of the toilets' door opening separated us from each other.

Since we were inside of one of the stalls, the person who entered the room couldn't see us, but they could definitely hear us. Since most of my fucking accrued in the girls' room, it wasn't the first time someone walked into the toilets while I was in one of the stalls with another girl. All we had to do was to wait until the girl, whoever she was, that just entered the toilets would leave, and then we could leave as well, or at least have another round.

So we waited patiently, but whoever entered the toilets stayed there for a long time.

Way too long.

_Wwwaaaaayyyyyyy _too long.

"I think you should get out," My fuck partner whispered, "She might stay there for a while, and you're the guy here, so if you walk out before she finishes it would be less awkward."

I decided to do as she said and pulled my boxers and pants back up. The stall was tiny and it was very hard to move freely in it, but I managed to organize myself and I quickly got out of the stall, sparing only a silent, "Bye!" to the girl I just fucked.

I was almost at the door of the toilets when the stall I did not come out of opened, and I automatically turned to see who the girl in the stall was.

I wasn't prepared to what happened then.

Because when I looked at her, I felt as if I was looking at a complete stranger. Which was stupid, because everything about her was so familiar; her face and hair and body, so familiar that it was as though her whole appearance was engraved into my brain, and yet, it was like I've never seen her clearer before.

Her skin was so much more beautiful than I remembered. Not dark, not light, just in between. Her hair was longer and more flowing than I remembered, a rich dark brown color. Her lips, full and pink, her very straight nose and the light freckles that covered it, and her eyes – so blue. I've never realized how blue her eyes actually were until now.

Her whole appearance was captivating.

I also felt a wave of strange, mixed feelings; I felt so light that the smallest wind could swipe me off my feet. I felt warmth radiating from her very presence, yet I was shivering and goose bumps covered my entire body. I saw in her all of the colors and light in the universe, as if she herself was anything and everything.

She was the whole world.

"Paul?" I heard her ask, surprised, and felt a shiver just by hearing her voice, by hearing her saying my name.

She was so beautiful, and suddenly I remembered all of the time I'd spent with her and never thought about her as beautiful, or thought about her in that way at all, because she was my best friend's girlfriend and therefor off limits.

How could I have been immune to such beauty?

"Paul," She repeated my name again, and I blinked hard and tried to get a grip of myself, because I was not saying anything and she looked confused and, for some reason, exhausted.

"Hey, Stevens," I said, trying to sound as normal as possible and not like just being in her presence made me feel complete.

"What are you doing in the girls' bathroom?" She asked, and I suddenly felt a wave of shame washing me.

Oh, fuck.

"I was just –" I started saying, trying to think of a good excuse for me being in a place that no guy should ever be in, when suddenly the door of the stall I was in before opened and the girl I fucked walked tentatively out, looking embarrassed but still smiling.

"Hi Emma," She said to Emma, who blinked at her, looking surprised.

"Hey Sarah," She said, smiling a small smile back at her.

Emma turned back to me, and I knew she put two and two together and realized exactly what I was doing in the ladies' room. She just looked at me with a blank look, and didn't look upset in the slightest to realize I just fucked a girl in the stall next to her.

She just didn't care.

At all.

I knew that there was no reason for her to be upset, since she didn't feel anything for me, but that, more than anything, made _me _feel upset.

I just got imprinted on the one girl who will forever see me as her boyfriend's horny best friend.

Fuck.

* * *

_And here's the next chapter._

_Sorry for not updating in a while. I'm in my Senior Year in highschool, and it's a pain in the ass. It's hard to find time to write._

_Thanks for all of you who reviewed! I'm happy that you like it so far :)_


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